Imaginectarine
by My Cat Frank
Summary: On a lonely summer evening Harry samples an imaginectarine created by the Weasley twins. The mind-altering fruit enhances his imagination and blurs the boundaries between reality and fantasy, and soon Harry can’t tell which is which.
1. Harry's Trip

**Imaginectarine**

By My Cat Frank

Summary: On a lonely summer evening Harry samples an imaginectarine created by the Weasley twins. The mind-altering fruit enhances his imagination and blurs the boundaries between reality and fantasy, and soon Harry can't tell which is which.

Do I want some feedback? Yes, please!

Warnings: Slash, scenes for a mature audience. All right, so it's smut, okay? _Yesss_, some of you are nodding. You are my target audience.

Disclaimer: Harry and Draco aren't mine. I keep asking J. K. Rowling for permission to use her characters, but she never returns my messages. I'm starting to worry that she's lying in a ditch somewhere, unable to reach her computer. I hope she's all right…

* * *

It was during that time of evening after the sun had set, when the twilight cast odd shadows in Harry's bedroom and blurred his vision with tints of gray and blue. It was light enough to see without a lamp, but the light was hazy and had the tendency to trick the eye with images that wouldn't be seen in broad daylight.

On such a summer evening Harry had excused himself from doing the dishes after dinner by telling his aunt that he had a stomachache, and escaped up to the quiet hermitage of his room. This time of day was the only time he had to himself when he spent his summers with the Dursleys, and he welcomed the loneliness—at least, he was happy to be away from his family, but he was still lonely. It wasn't just that he missed his friends, which he did. He felt that there was something else missing, and he couldn't put his finger on it.

Brushing aside this thought, he kneeled down on the floor and pulled up the trick floorboard, revealing the care package Hermione and the Weasleys had sent him. Mrs. Weasley had sent some cake; Hermione had given him a few muggle magazines; Ron had given him some magical contraption he had yet to find a use for; and even the twins had added something to the package. He reread the postscript in the letter from Ron:

_P.S. Fred and George are sending you something they call "imaginectarines". They say you should try one sometime when you're alone and bored. I haven't had one and I don't know what it does, but they assure me that it won't turn you into a newt or anything._

Harry examined one of the imaginectarines. It was a round, smooth-skinned orange fruit with a blush of redness on one side. In any other situation he would have naturally taken it as an ordinary nectarine, but knowing Fred and George there had to be some kind of trick involved. Well, at least if something did happen to him, it couldn't hurt, and this was the best time of day for him to experiment without calling up the attention of the Dursleys. He picked up a magazine, sat on his bed, and ate the fruit while flipping through the pages. It wasn't light enough for him to read any articles, but he could still see the pictures by what little light was still coming in from out his window. He could hear a whistling in the wind outside, like the sound it makes before a storm, beating warm but persistent breezes into the room and whirling wild whispering noises past his ears.

He threw away the imaginectarine pit and when he turned his attention back to the magazine, his eyes fell on an ad for men's briefs and he stopped. The model reminded him of a certain blond Slytherin he knew only too well. He stared at the photograph for a long time, taking in the young man's aloof expression, lips parted slightly and eyes looking at something over Harry's shoulder. Harry's gaze trailed down to the wide shoulders, bare chest dripping with small rivulets of water that ran down his arms and torso and soaked into the waistband of his briefs.

Suddenly he heard an all-too-familiar drawl whisper in his ear from behind. "Does that attract you, Potter?" Harry closed his eyes, leaning back toward the sound of the voice. "Is this what you do over your summer—look through muggle magazines for muggle photographs and think about naked muggle men?" He could feel the breath tickling his ear and exhaled slowly. "I think you like this." He felt a hand fall lightly on his shoulder and slide down the front of his chest. He gasped softly.

The hand drifted lower, sliding down his stomach, over his belt, and down further until it cupped his groin. He arched his back and moaned. "Oh, what's this? You're _hard_, Potter," the voice continued, lips brushing his earlobe. "The famous Harry Potter likes boys."

"Draco," Harry breathed, as the hand slowly unbuttoned his fly and slid into his pants. He felt Draco's hand gently squeeze his tip, then grasp him firmly and stroke up and down. Harry was breathing in short gasps, his neck thrown backwards and his eyes shut firmly. He felt a tongue slide across the tender skin beneath his ear and move lower, where lips nibbled on his exposed throat. Draco wrapped his other arm around him, embracing him from behind and continuing that wonderful attention to his manhood.

"Do you want to fuck boys? Or do you want them to fuck you, Harry?" Harry bit his lip. "Are you a top or a bottom? Do you wonder what it would feel like to have your rock-hard cock inside him? Do you want it inside you? Do you want to fuck me, Harry Potter? Do you wonder how it would feel to have my cock rubbing against yours? You're so horny," he whispered, every consonant sending a wave of breath hot and heavy in Harry's ear, "Do you want me to suck your cock? Do you want to touch my body? Do you want to feel me hot on your lips and taste me when I come? Do you want your cock inside me? _Do you want to fuck me, Harry Potter?_"

Harry growled and spun around, pinning Draco to the bed beneath him and sealing his mouth with a hot, wet kiss. Their tongues wrestled and Harry felt Draco's hands tangle in his hair and slide down his back, digging fingernails into his shirt when Harry thrust his hips against him. Draco cried out loud. "Shh," Harry whispered, and bit his neck with a feral impulse. Draco bit his bottom lip and tore at Harry's shirt, pulling it over his head and Harry had Draco's shirt off soon after. They rubbed their hands over each other's torsos, then Harry moved down and sucked on Draco's nipple, teasing it with his tongue and nipping it with his teeth. Draco squirmed beneath him, stifling a moan. Harry tugged at Draco's pants and pulled them down to his knees, pulling down his underwear with them. Draco gasped as Harry's hand encircled his cock and pressed his thumb into the tip, sending a jolt of pleasure all through Draco's body.

Then Harry's pants came down, and they rubbed against each other, hips thrusting, holding on tightly to each other as they raced to feel that great sense of wonderful heat and pleasure that was quickly escalating higher and higher and threatening to overcome them both. Draco bit into Harry's shoulder and Harry knew that he wasn't going to last much longer. He felt himself coming closer and closer to the edge until finally something exploded inside of him and he jerked forward with a last powerful thrust just as Draco came, gasping and whimpering his name.

Harry collapsed on top of Draco and buried his head in the curve between his neck and shoulder, his tongue caressing the red bite marks he had left earlier. He kissed his way up Draco's throat and met his lips in a searing kiss that was both fierce and loving at the same time. Harry felt an overwhelming sense of passion and happiness

crushing inside of him, tugging at the back of his throat and the corners of his eyes.

As his lips finally pulled away he sighed happily. "Draco," he whispered, and opened his eyes to look at his lover.

That's when reality kicked back in, and he realized that he was alone, like he always had been, lying on his stomach on his bed at the Dursley's and dreaming of someone who was not there and who probably never would be.

* * *

Later that night Harry was dreaming, and in his dream he was flying on the back of an owl and towards a large mansion he had never seen before. The owl flew into a large bedroom, and Harry saw Draco—and somehow he knew that Draco could not see or hear him. In this dream state he saw Draco's eyes widen as he stared at something invisible and a book fell out of his hand where he was standing. Harry had the impression that Draco was experiencing a vision—the blond closed his eyes and bit his lip, seeming to react to something Harry couldn't see. Draco's breath became ragged and he fell back on his bed, writhing and moaning under his breath. As he watched, Harry found himself imagining that Draco must somehow be experiencing a vision of the dream that Harry had had back on Privet Drive. He didn't know how it was possible, and at the moment he didn't care—the sight of Draco undergoing such an orgasmic extrasensory experience was too much of a distraction.

He watched as Draco leaned back and closed his eyes, arching his back and sliding a hand down the front of his pants, stroking himself with a desperate need. Harry was unable to tear himself away, mesmerized by the sight of Draco pleasing himself, tossing his white-blond hair from side to side on the pillow. Harry wished he could jump on the bed and join him but he was there in spirit only. With a shout Draco came, arching his back and then collapsing on the bed in a satisfied heap. He moaned and seemed to be pulling an invisible person down for a deep, passionate kiss, and Harry suddenly felt himself being jerked away from the room and back to his own bedroom on Privet Drive.

* * *

His eyes flew open. He was convinced that he had just had a vision where he saw Draco have a vision of Harry's dream encounter with Draco. Just thinking about it was confusing. He struggled until he could make it make sense in his head. Was it possible that the imaginectarine he'd eaten earlier made his fantasy so potent that he could somehow project it through space and share it with Draco? He believed that's what it had to mean.

He felt feverish. Was it excitement, or was he still under the fruit's influences? In either case, if Draco had felt it and enjoyed it, Harry decided that if they _both_ ate an imaginectarine at the same time, they could share another mutual fantasy that would be even more erotic.

He leaped out of bed and pulled an imaginectarine out of the package from the Weasleys. He found a small box and put the fruit inside, then wrote a hasty note on a piece of parchment:

_Draco,_

_Remember the vision you had last night? Eat this imaginectarine and we can experience another one together. I'm looking forward to it._

Love, Harry 

He sealed the note inside the package and tied it to Hedwig's leg, instructing her to go to Draco at Malfoy Manor. All he would have to do would be wait until the next evening...

* * *

Somehow the time flew by faster than he expected, and it was already evening of the following day. The twilight cast dim and undecipherable shadows in his bedroom as Harry selected another inaginectarine and ate it, reclining on his bed. He threw away the pit, took off his clothes, and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was stretched out on a large, soft bed. He recognized it immediately as the bed in Draco's enormous room from his vision the night before.

"Are you really here?"

Harry turned his head and saw Draco lying next to him, obviously shocked to see the Boy Who Lived lying naked on his bed. Harry nodded.

Draco slowly extended a tentative hand and touched Harry's chest with his fingertips. "You're real," he whispered, and Harry shivered at the delicate touch.

Their hands roamed experimentally over each other. Their first experience had been fast and hard; this time they both moved slowly, savoring each sensation. Their lips met in a warm, thirsty, needful kiss, then parted and their tongues met. They tasted each other lightly at first, playfully licking each other's lips, then caressing and gliding in and out, each exploring the other's mouth. Draco's hands tangled in Harry's hair, holding his head close. Harry held one hand supporting Draco's neck and the other moving lower, sliding down Draco's soft, pale skin to massage his hip. Draco whimpered into the kiss, and Harry slid on top of him to press their skin together more completely. Draco's hands moved down to Harry's back, fingertips caressing the taut muscles there, incensing Harry and driving him mad with the need to possess Draco more fully.

"I want you," Harry whispered throatily, and moved down until his head was above Draco's hardness. He raised his eyes to look up at Draco's face, pleased to see the other boy's eyes glazed over with lust, his breathing erratic. Without losing eye contact, he lowered his lips and gently kissed the tip of Draco's member, watching his blond eyelashes flutter shut over those brilliant silver eyes. Draco gasped softly, clutching fistfuls of expensive silk sheets, and Harry lowered his lips further, taking in more and more of Draco until the blond threw his head backwards onto the pillow and arched his back, screaming for more. His tongue twirled around the organ, teasing and nipping at it, moving up and down and sucking harder while a hand reached up to fondle Draco's balls, the other one rubbing up and down his smooth creamy thigh. Draco was panting, his body coated in a thin sheen of sweat, as he wove a hand into Harry's hair and tugged, pulling his face up.

"I need you, Harry," Draco moaned. "Please—I want you inside me," he begged, and took Harry's lips in a desperate kiss.

Harry found a bottle of massage oil on Draco's nightstand and poured a little onto his fingers. He reached down and gently began to caress Draco's entrance, his eyes following the Slytherin's expression to know when to push further, when Draco was ready. Draco's eyes closed tightly shut and he held his breath, clutching desperately to Harry's arm, but as he adjusted to the feel of Harry's fingers he began to relax, and moaned softly when Harry found a spot that felt particularly good.

Harry removed his fingers and rubbed some more oil on himself, then positioned himself above Draco, lifting Draco's legs on either side of his shoulders and raising himself to Draco's entrance. He slowly eased himself inside, Draco grasping at Harry's back and holding his mouth open in a breathless "O" until Harry had imbedded himself completely.

"Wow," was all Harry could say, and Draco nodded breathlessly, the feel of joining different than anything either had ever experienced. Harry rocked forward, Draco's legs kicking up into the air, pressing down on him until he could plant a kiss on his lips. The movement altered their position on the inside, and Draco thrust against Harry's hips, causing Harry to thrust back.

They rocked together, slowly at first, finding their rhythm and then building speed, thrusting against each other and going mad with the sensations this brought on. Each time Harry pounded into the blond, he hit a soft, spongy center that Draco apparently didn't know he had, and Harry sensed it was about to send him over the edge. Draco's hands grasped the bedsheets, and then he was reaching over his head to push against the headboard, sending Harry deeper and deeper into him, his toes curling in ecstasy. Harry had never felt any pressure so tight as Draco. His breath was coming in more ragged gasps as he thrust faster and faster, building towards a climax, until finally he felt Draco squeeze hard around him as he came, arching his back and screaming, hot wetness shooting onto Harry's stomach. The pressure was too much, and with a final groan he buried himself one last time inside Draco's tight passage, feeling his own release sending him off somewhere above the stars into another universe.

When he came back down, he was lying on his side, Draco kissing his shoulders and tracing his fingertips up and down the flank of Harry's stomach. Harry grinned at him, a silly little smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. "I liked this," he said.

Draco grinned back at him. "Me too," he answered, and claimed Harry's lips in a soft, sweet kiss. "Where did you get that fruit, anyway? We should do this more often." Draco snuggled up against him, and Harry wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close.

"Fred and George," he answered sleepily, "and we should." Anything more that he would have said was lost, as sleep came to carry him off to a faraway realm.

* * *

Harry woke up the next morning to a patch of sunlight dancing across his face. He blinked and sat up in his bed. It was his old bed in his old bedroom on Privet Drive. He searched around for his glasses and found them on the floor by the bed, lying on top of the magazine, which looked like it had been tossed to the floor carelessly.

Something about this didn't sit right in his brain. Hadn't the incident with the magazine been the night before last, _not_ the night before? The clothes lying in a heap on the floor were the clothes he had worn the night before last, too. He tried to remember every single detail since he ate the imaginectarine the first time—it worked—well, it sort of worked.

He could remember every vivid detail of Draco looking over his shoulder at the magazine, their rough-and-tumble sex, his vision of Draco in Draco's bedroom, the letter and the fruit he sent to Draco by owl, then eating another fruit and taking his clothes off to meet Draco for the best sex of his life.

Funnily, he couldn't remember a single detail of the _day_ before—as if the time in between sending the letter and meeting Draco that evening hadn't existed.

Something in his stomach dropped about twenty feet. How much of that had _actually_ happened? He looked towards the window to see if Hedwig was there, but she wasn't. Had he really sent Draco Malfoy an imaginectarine—with a note that said, well, he shuddered to think what he could have written in that note.

Harry sat down on the edge of the bed as his mind reeled. Did he really have sex with Draco? Or was it all his imagination brought on by eating the imaginectarine? He kneeled on the floor and pulled out the package from the Weasleys and counted the number of imaginectarines. There were two left. Unfortunately, had had no memory of how many Fred and George had initially given him. Had it been five, or only three?

He realized that he had no idea. And without knowing this, how could he know whether or not he had really had sex with Draco?

He pulled out a piece of parchment from a drawer and set out to write a letter that he was certain would bring on a good laugh from the Weasley twins—which was probably their intention in the first place.

_Fred and George,_

_Thanks for the imaginectarines. The experience was incredible. This may sound strange, but do you remember how many you sent me? How long are the effects supposed to last?_

The End

* * *

Author's Note:

This fic is a repost. I am currently in the process of writing a second part to this, which will be added in about a week. So...what do you think should happen next? Shall Draco learn about imaginectarines, or will Harry keep them all to himself (and do a fair amount of "imagining")??? Please leave a review!

--My Cat Frank


	2. The Aftermath

Imaginectarine II

By My Cat Frank

Summary: This follows what happens after Harry's experience with the imaginectarines in Part I. Read the first part before proceeding on to this one, or else you may find yourself severely confused.

Disclaimer: I'm still waiting for J. K. Rowling to get back to me on this whole "permission" business, but so far, no response. Has anyone else heard from her? Is she all right? Should someone file a Missing Persons report?

Warnings: Smutty slash, a.k.a. slashy smut. Kids, don't try this at home without parental supervision. Wait a minute...Ew! Who would want their parents to watch? Kids, never tell your parents all the gritty details of your sex lives if you can at all avoid it. And parents, stop prying into your horny children's Harry Potter gay porno collections, _before_ you find yourselves scarred for life. Trust me—the world will be a much better place for everyone.

Note: Thanks to all who have read the first part. Special thanks to go Angelle, Lord Percy Percy, Pretty Racing, Istanbul, javajunkee, AnnaBanana, daydreamer, Jannet, and Joanna for leaving those spiffy reviews that helped get me off my duff and back to writing! It's taken me much longer to get back to this than I expected (blame real life), but I do appreciate any and all feedback because it helps get my muses working again. Soooo, the moral of this story is to please REVIEW!

And without further ado…

* * *

About a week after Harry sent the letter to Fred and George, he finally heard back from them:

_Harry,_

_We checked our inventory and figure we must have sent you four imaginectarines. Fred says that would be one for you, and then one each for your family—should you need to "influence" them. _

_The effects typically last about 6-8 hours, but someone who's under its spell can be fooled about the passage of time and space. When Fred tried it he said he thought Mum was a fish and went to put her back in the pond in the morning, but he never left our bedroom. Had a good time with your fruit, did you?_

_Now that we're no longer at Hogwarts, it'll be up to you and Ron to wreak havoc upon the school. Make sure he doesn't turn into another Percy, will you?_

_George_

Harry had two imaginectarines left. He remembered eating the first one, but then in his altered state of mind he thought he had eaten another, and sent another one with a love note to none other than Draco Malfoy. He sincerely hoped that he had eaten the second one in reality, and not sent it to his arch-rival. How would he ever face Malfoy again if he had?

What he did know for certain was that he had no desire to eat the other two imaginectarines, afraid of what embarrassment he might incur while in a second state of altered consciousness. At a loss for any good reason to hang onto the tainted fruit, he gave one each to Uncle Vernon and Dudley one evening when his Aunt Petunia was out of town. The results were surprisingly negligible: apparently whatever potion the Weasley twins had used to make the fruit hallucinogenic had no effect on muggles. Vernon and Dudley suffered no reactions whatsoever.

"What are _you_ staring at?" Vernon barked at Harry, when he caught the young wizard watching him intently.

"Nothing, I guess," Harry replied, and snuck away to his room to write to Fred and George about these results.

* * *

Although Ron had heard about the incident from Fred and George, Harry never told him exactly _what_ he had imagined. Hermione never heard anything at all about it, and Harry felt no need to tell her.

And so when the three of them were riding the Hogwarts Express back to school on the first of September, Ron and Hermione had no idea what Draco Malfoy would want with them as he threw open the compartment door and barreled inside.

"Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed. "Don't you ever _knock_?"

"Of course not. Malfoys never knock," Draco sneered, before turning his deadly gaze onto Harry. "Potter," he spat, and pulled a sheet of parchment out of his pocket. "I demand that you tell me what you meant by this."

He thrust the parchment in Harry's face, and to Harry's horror he recognized it as the note he had hoped he hadn't really written. "Is this your idea of a joke, Potter? Did you, Weasel, and the Mudblood all have a good laugh over it? Well, you can just think again, because I'm not going to sit back and be the patsy for whatever little games you three are playing."

"Have you totally gone nutters?" Ron retorted. "Why would any of us ever want to have anything to do with you, anyway?"

Hermione reached out for the parchment. "Let's see what it is, then," she said, but Harry swiftly blocked her outstretched hand in order to grab it first. Unfortunately, Draco was faster than either of them and pulled it out of reach.

"Allow me," he said, clearing his throat, and Harry could only sit there, ashen-faced, as Draco proceeded to read the letter. The words sounded so much worse when pronounced by Draco's harsh, biting drawl.

_"'Draco,'"_ he began acerbically, "'_Remember the vision you had last night? Eat this imaginectarine and we can experience another one together. I'm looking forward to it. __Love, Harry,_'" he finished, putting special emphasis on the last two words.

"'Love, Harry'?" Ron repeated incredulously.

"I was under the influence of the imaginectarine at the time," Harry admitted, hiding his face in his hands.

"Harry, you didn't!" Hermione gasped. "But those are hallucinogenic! What were you thinking?!"

"Hallucinogenic?" Draco asked, intrigued. "Do you mean to say that Potter was on drugs?" He turned back to Harry with a note of surprise. "You offered me drugs, Potter?"

Harry looked like his world had collapsed. "You—you didn't _eat_ it, did you?"

Draco let out a sharp, high-pitched laugh. "Right, Potter, because when my worst enemy sends me a cryptic note and food of indeterminable quality, my first instinct is to tuck in and eat it." He reached into his other pocket and pulled out the last remaining imaginectarine—whole, and uneaten. "For all I know, it could be full of razor blades," he added.

"Only you would stoop to a dirty trick like that, Malfoy," Ron muttered.

Draco ignored him. "So what _does_ it do, anyway?" he asked Harry.

With a sigh, Harry explained the nature of the imaginectarine to Draco, in whose mind wheels seemed to be turning as he took in the information.

"But Harry," Ron protested, "why would you want to send a letter to _him_," he jerked his head towards Draco, "and share an imaginectarine experience _together_?"

Draco smirked. Harry's face turned from ashen-white to beet-red in approximately 2.5 seconds. Hermione said nothing, but her silence spoke volumes as her eyes popped and she dramatically covered her mouth with both hands, evidently thinking up a few hypotheses of her own.

"Er—well—"

What _I_ want to know—" interjected Draco, who re-pocketed the fruit and gracefully slid into the seat next to Harry. There was a sensual sort of seductive quality to his movements as he slunk sideways in a catlike manner and rested his elbow on the back of the seat, but his face was devoid of all signs of amusement. He fixed Harry with a cold, threatening glare. "I want to know what you meant when you said I had a vision, Potter."

Harry wrung his hands, desperately wishing he did not have to be in this situation, but now that he was there, he knew he had no escape: he had pulled Draco into this mess, and now the Slytherin—loathe Harry was to admit it—deserved an explanation.

"I—er—okay. It was like this...see..." Draco stared at him coldly. "I was imagining things, right—because of the imaginectarine, of course—and I imagined that...well, I was in your room, and I...sortofsawyouhaveavisionofsomething."

Draco raised an eyebrow, but before he could control his expression a tiny twitch had flickered across his features. "A vision?" he scoffed. "So what would that ever have to do with me?" he retorted nonchalantly.

"It was pleasant," Harry answered quietly. Draco stared at him for a moment, and then his cheeks turned a soft glowing pink. He frowned and stood up, backing toward the door and glaring icicles at Harry.

"Leave me out of your sick fantasies, Potter." With a slam, he was out the door.

* * *

After that, Harry had had to confess everything to Ron and Hermione—minus the sex, which he figured they didn't need to know. He was surprised to find that they were both supportive and understanding.

"It wasn't your fault, Harry," Hermione explained once again as she saw Harry wasn't eating at the welcoming feast. "The imaginectarine must have triggered some subconscious desires that you may not have known that you had, and if so, there's nothing you could have done about them. You can't help what you like, and the drug would have suppressed your inhibitions so you could be free to enjoy yourself for once. It doesn't matter what he's like in real life—you could have imagined him any way you want to, because it was _fantasy_."

"Right, what she said," Ron added between a mouthful of au gratin potatoes. "Oh, cheer up, Harry, and eat some chicken and ham pie—it's your favorite! Besides, it's not like you have to like the guy in real life you know, because he's still the scum of the univer—"

"But he _is_ cute," Hermione tacked on, elbowing Ron in the side.

"_Cute?!_"

"Well, excuse me, Ron, for being a warm-blooded heterosexual female who has the ability to notice when a man is good-looking."

"Oh, so now you _admit_ to lusting after Malfoy!"

"Don't be silly, Ron—"

"You're planning on stealing Harry's man!"

Harry shook his head and tuned out the rest of his friends' argument with a put-upon sigh. His gaze traveled across the Great Hall and fell upon Draco's. The other boy was staring at him, a hard icy glare radiating from pale silver eyes.

Harry didn't have the heart to glare back at him for very long, and pulled his eyes away tiredly. Soon Hermione was leading all the Gryffindors up to their dorms, and Harry followed along resolutely, avoiding the procession of the Slytherins as they parted ways on the stairs.

* * *

The week flew by as classes began and life at Hogwarts became busier. Harry expected to find half the school jeering at him again—not because of anything to do with his scar or Voldemort, but because of what he had been forced to tell Malfoy about the imaginectarines. Surprisingly, however, the blond had kept the matter to himself, and not a single Slytherin had had anything scathing to say to Harry about fruit.

Given this relative quietude, it had to be a coincidence that the house-elves had been serving nectarines at every meal that week. Harry had avoided them completely, looking ill if anyone passed the fruit bowl his way. Finally on a Friday night, Ron dumped a nectarine in front of him at dinner.

"Come on, Harry," Ron said, eyeing his friend with a note of concern. "Have some hair of the dog that bit you."

"Why should I?" Harry asked, looking at him suspiciously.

"Because you can't avoid fruit forever! It's good for you!" Ron threw his hands in the air.

Harry laughed. "You're starting to sound like your mother."

Ron's face reddened. "I am not!" His bottom lip faintly pulled up into a pout. "Besides," he continued, "every time you turn down a piece of fruit, that git across the hall—" he jerked his thumb toward where Malfoy was sitting—"looks like you've just made his day. It's time you show him, Harry." Ron pushed the nectarine closer to him. "Show him you're bigger than that. Show him it doesn't bother you anymore."

Harry looked at his best friend and slowly nodded, realizing Ron was right. Slowly, he picked up the nectarine, stared at it for a moment, then finally took a bite. He looked across the Great Hall at the Slytherin table and saw Malfoy watching them. He took another bite, chewing defiantly as he stared back at his nemesis. As he finished the fruit, he saw Malfoy turn his lips upwards into a devious smile.

* * *

After dinner Ron and Hermione set off by themselves for some "personal time," so Harry decided that rather than hanging around the other Gryffindors in the common room he wanted to take a walk by himself instead. He wandered around the corridors for a while, but then as he caught a glimpse through the window on the west side of the castle he decided to watch the sunset. A few minutes later he was sitting on the window ledge of an empty classroom, watching the sun set over the horizon and enjoying being away from the bustle of other students. His mind drifted lazily into sleepiness as he gazed at the colors in the sky and watched as they faded from bright orange into fiery red, and then from reddish-purple into blue. The colors blended into each other, glowing against the clouds and reminding him of colors he had seen before. In his tired mind they looked just like—

"—Like the colors in a nectarine," a voice interjected from behind, seeming to read his thoughts.

Harry turned his head abruptly toward the sound, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the dark dusk that had settled over the unused classroom. He could barely make out the profile of a wizard as he slowly approached the window ledge where Harry was sitting. He stepped into the sunbeam, and his pale blond features were colored with shades of pink and peach.

"Malfoy," he breathed. He quickly stopped himself from the train of thought that was focused on how gorgeous the other boy looked in the setting sunlight, and hardened his expression into that of 'Harry Potter, Force Not To Be Reckoned With.' He stood up and faced him.

"Did you seek me out so that you could have a bit of fun with me, Malfoy?" Harry asked coldly, then inwardly cursed himself for his choice of words.

Draco chuckled. "Maybe I did, and maybe I didn't," he answered enigmatically. He unhooked the clasp of his robe and slid it from his shoulders. It fell to the floor in a graceful pool of expensive fabric, exposing his shirt, tie and pants.

Harry was unable to pull his eyes away from the unexpected spectacle of Draco disrobing himself. He gulped, but did not blink.

"You see, Potter," Draco began, untying his necktie as he spoke, keeping his eyes locked on Harry's. "You can't be one hundred percent certain of exactly _what_ is really happening right now. Eating that nectarine at dinner tonight was a mistake. You knew that I had in my possession one of your so-called imaginectarines. For all you know, I could have snuck into the kitchens before dinner and planted it among the regular fruit at the Gryffindor table, in the hope that you would eat it by accident." He slipped the tie from around his neck and dropped it on top of his robe.

Harry stood frozen as Draco approached him at the window, his neck delightfully more exposed, his blond hair pink in the dimming sunset. He also thought that the blond's cheeks might have been a deeper shade of pink—from the sunset, of course.

Soon Draco was standing only a few inches away from Harry. Harry could literally _feel_ Draco draw in a breath before he continued to speak. "When you said you saw me have a vision this summer, you were right," he breathed. "I saw _you_. You were in a small muggle room, wanking off to a magazine and calling my name." His eyes softened, their usual icy bitterness replaced with something warmer and darker—something lustful that trapped Harry into their gaze and prevented him from backing away. "And then I was there and we were on your bed. So when you said you saw me having a vision of something pleasant, I was having a vision about _us_."

"But Malfoy, if you really did have a vision, that doesn't explain why you would want to give me another imaginectarine," Harry wondered out loud.

Draco's eyes cleared into a piercing glare. "Potter, you're in no state to think logically right now," he retorted. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders and held him firmly. "I just want you to understand one thing, Potter. None of this is really happening right now. This is just another one of your drug-induced hallucinations."

Harry was going to respond to this statement, but he was silenced by the look on Draco's face. The other boy stared at him as if he was fighting an internal battle. His mouth screwed up into a tight line and a crease formed between his eyebrows. Then, just as a determined glint reached his grey eyes, he lunged forward, lips first, and attacked Harry by the mouth. A hand wrapped around the back of Harry's head to keep him from pulling away.

At first all Harry felt was shock, as he realized that Draco was kissing the life out of him. Draco's lips were stiff and made Harry think he was inexperienced—or nervous. But after a moment passed by where Harry did not shove him away, he relaxed and softly opened his mouth, sending a warm tremor down Harry's spine. Harry's eyes drifted shut and he melted into the kiss, darting his tongue forth to duel with Draco's. He wrapped his arms around the other boy's waist and pulled their bodies together, which Draco rewarded with a surprised moan. Hands roamed through hair and across backs, all questions in Harry's mind forgotten.

Harry was really starting to get into the kiss when Draco suddenly pulled away. They both panted breathlessly as they stared at each other in awe. Harry wasn't really sure that his previous imaginectarine experiences had felt quite this real. He could feel the warmth of Draco's waist beneath his fingertips through the thin fabric of blond's shirt; he could feel the hot, moist breath of the other boy as Draco stood only inches away from him; he felt the tickling of Draco's thin, delicate fingers as they slowly untied the knot in his necktie. The blond's fingers seemed to be trembling as they hesitantly removed Harry's tie and began unbuttoning his shirt.

Draco looked up into Harry's eyes, his face flush pink in the setting sun. He seemed to be waiting for Harry to push him away, but when Harry didn't, he nervously slipped his fingers underneath the shirt and lightly touched skin. Harry exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Draco's fingers moved slowly across Harry's chest, leaving trails of tingling flesh in their wake. Draco looked up at Harry's face again, watching the other boy's reaction as Harry breathed slowly, shallowly, unable to do little more than hold on to Draco's waist for support. Draco seemed mesmerized by Harry's reaction to such light touches, fascinated by the effect they were having.

After a maddeningly-long minute Draco lowered his head and bit into the flesh of Harry's chest, causing Harry to gasp sharply. Draco licked at the teeth marks, tasting skin. He brushed his thumb over a nipple before lowering his mouth again to worry it with his lips, sucking lightly, biting it teasingly until a fire seemed to burn deep inside Harry.

He pulled Draco back up for another kiss, this one hungrier and more demanding. His fingers sought the buttons on Draco's shirt and practically ripped them off, frantically trying to remove the garment. His hands grasped around Draco's now-bare waist, wondering at the feel of real skin against skin. He slipped a leg between the other boy's and bucked his hips, making the blond groan into his mouth as the friction rubbed in just the right place. Harry could feel Draco's hardness against his thigh as his tongue plunged deeper, wanting so much more.

Draco's fingers had clenched into Harry's sides, just trying to hold on under the assault that had gone further than he seemed to be ready for. As if he was trying to resume control, he ripped off Harry's shirt. When their chests met he gasped, letting go of Harry's mouth and breathing roughly. The want in his eyes matched the lust clouding Harry's as they ground against each other, almost daring one another to take the next step.

Draco steered Harry backwards until he bumped against a desk. When Harry could not go back any farther Draco lowered his hands to the front of Harry's trousers and rubbed his finger down the length of his hardness. Harry yelped and gripped the sides of the desk, afraid to do anything that might discourage the Slytherin from doing whatever he had planned.

As if reading this signal, Draco cautiously unbuttoned the trousers and lowered them, taking a pair of white briefs down with them. Harry bit his lip as a cool breeze graced his exposed groin, choking on a whimper as those delicate pale fingers lightly trailed down a path of hair that led from his stomach downwards, until they wrapped around his arousal. He held his breath as he looked at Draco's face. The other boy appeared to be studying it, fingering it tenderly as if it might disappear in a cloud of smoke. It was driving him crazy.

Then Draco lowered his head, and licked the small drop of precum that leaked from the end. Harry held his breath the entire time, watching the action as if he was unsure whether to believe it was really happening. That's when he remembered that this was all a result of eating the imaginectarine, and he let himself go, releasing a deep, loud moan. Draco seemed to take this as encouragement and took in more of Harry, one hand wrapped around to the cleft in his backside and the other cupping him underneath.

Harry buried his fingers in the soft fair hair and pushed the head forward to take in more of him. He wasn't sure, but he thought he might have heard Draco gag slightly. The other boy made up for it by wrapping a hand around his base, and soon Harry was drifting away in bliss. A thin sheen of sweat covered his body. After a while he realized this was not enough. He needed more.

He pulled Draco up by the hair and plunged his tongue into the other boy's mouth voraciously. When the pulled apart he said, panting, "I need more…"

Draco's eyes widened as he panted, too out of breath to say anything. Harry lowered his hands and began to undo the buttons on the Slytherin's trousers. His fingers grazed through the pale blond hair beneath black silk boxers and wrapped around the erection there, caressing it up and down with his thumb. Draco leaned heavily onto Harry's shoulders and buried his face in that warm, musky neck, his breath coming out in broken staccato gasps that tickled Harry's skin and drove him even crazier.

"I want you," Harry spoke softly into the pale ear by his cheek, "I want you…inside me…"

The pale head nodded and Harry pushed him upright, removing his pants completely and turning around to bend over the desk. This was all an illusion, so he could give himself fully without fear of what Malfoy might say to him in the future. Behind him, he could hear the other boy's trousers hit the floor. A hand came up behind him and caressed one of his cheeks. Harry moaned unreservedly in anticipation.

Then the caressing slowed to a halt, stopping on his rear. Harry gripped his fingers around the other end of the desk. He could hear Draco remove the cap to a bottle and waited for the inevitable feeling of lubrication on his skin.

A minute passed when nothing happened. Harry hadn't expected this. He turned to look over his shoulder and was surprised to see Draco holding the bottle up to the dimming light and squinting at the instructions written on its side.

He groaned in frustration. "Oh, for Merlin's sake! Just put some on your fingers, wiggle them up inside, smear some on your cock and RAM IT IN!"

Draco jumped at the outburst, but then he recovered enough to sneer at the Gryffindor. "I knew that, Potter," he snapped.

A second later, Draco had smeared the lubrication on his fingers and penetrated Harry's entrance. Harry sighed, surrendering to the feeling of those long, pale fingers reaching him from the inside. Soon after the sensation was replaced with the hot, wide feeling of arousal as it pushed against him, straining against the tight ring at the opening and sliding in, slick from the lubrication. Time seemed to stand still as they both adjusted to the new feeling, Draco holding onto Harry's hips and Harry gripping the desktop for support. Slowly the blond began to push in and out, Harry pushing back to meet him and gasping whenever Draco hit that soft spongy wonderful center inside of him.

Harry was only dimly aware of the reality outside this spectacular focal point of his attention, but in the background of his senses he could feel the hot, silky touch of Draco's thighs as they brushed against his own, the silvery glow of the moonlight in the now-darkened room, the faint scuffling noises of the desk legs as they scraped across the floor mingling with the ragged gasps coming from both of them. He could smell the scent of sex in the air and taste Draco, still hot on his tongue. Draco reached around to cup his erection and a tremor ran through his entire body. The universe was collapsing around them into this one surreal, solitary act of unity, yet nothing had ever felt more real to Harry.

After an eternity Draco pushed one last time, burying himself inside Harry's core and exploding with a deafening groan. Harry was pushed over the edge, losing all track of himself as stars danced before his eyes. The two rocked together, riding out the waves until they came back down to reality.

Harry turned around and pulled Draco into a soft, gentle kiss, feeling completely sated and serene. The blond practically sang into his mouth, fingers running through a tangled mess of black hair with worshipful adoration. When they finally pulled apart, the Slytherin slowly fluttered his eyes open and looked into Harry's mossy gaze. In that quiet moment there was no animosity between them, only the soft, gentle breathing as their hearts slowed back to a normal pace.

Draco blinked, and suddenly seemed to remember himself. "P-Potter," he said, removing his arms from around Harry's neck where they had rested. He backed away, and he fumbled to put his clothes back on. "Remember, there's no use mentioning this to anyone, because it was just your imagination. That's what you get for eating hallucinogenic fruit."

Harry watched him dress silently, but stopped him before he could leave. "Malfoy," he called out when the blond's hand was on the doorknob, "do you think I might hallucinate again tomorrow night?"

Draco stopped and looked at him. The Boy Who Lived was still leaning shamelessly against the desk in the darkened room, wearing his glasses and nothing else but what he was born with. The Slytherin's lips curled up into a wide, genuine smile, his eyes bright like diamonds. "Maybe you will, Potter, maybe you will."

With that, he slipped out the door. Harry grinned as he put his clothes back on. _Yes,_ he decided, _imaginectarines are really good for you after all._

The End

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Whaaaaa, what do you think? My beta believes that Harry has hallucinated himself into insanity. I'm curious to find out how you readers interpret this story. Did any of this really happen? Nods to anyone who picked up on the subtle Faulker reference at the beginning. Thanks everyone for reading my fic! Now, please make my day and leave a review!

--MCF


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